Adrift
by Saphrona Attecombe
Summary: When Reese abandoned Harold, and the Machine, he never wondered if he was going to be allowed to stop saving people, or the price he might have to pay if he tried. Probably end up as a short story, but who knows? Takes place after season 3 EP 11, all usual disclaimers apply, please R&R !
1. Chapter 1

Adrift

Reese shrugged his coat higher up around his neck, took a long, deliberate look each direction before stepping on to the sidewalk. No sign of Fusco, his self-appointed sidekick. The air, late afternoon, had a slight snap of cold, revealing his breath. There were enough people on the sidewalks that he was able to blend seamlessly in to the flow, afternoon workers, done for the day, heading for home or the local tavern. It was certainly a lot more difficult to stay off radar here than it had been back ….back in NYC. He had the advantage, at least, of having grown up here. Fusco was flying blind, trying to figure out where he'd gone.

Once they'd been released from jail on the 'disorderly conduct' bust, Reese had immediately made it his goal to be permanently lost to Lionel. He didn't want, or need, a babysitter, or any conscience-goading.  
What he did want was a drink, and he knew just the place. Way off the beaten path, a local hole in the wall where no questions would be asked. He kept his head slightly lowered, just enough to conceal the fact that he was scanning the face of every person he passed. Threat assessment.

When the tall man, half a block away, froze in his tracks, glaring at his cell phone, Reese altered his pace, pulled hands from his pockets, and straightened his stance. Seconds later, the man began scanning the crowd, a fierce snarl on his face. Who he was, what his problem was, Reese had no idea, wasn't interested; he just wanted to avoid any more complications in his quest to disappear. He realized it was harder for him to avoid attention, as he stood a head taller than most people, so he casually edged his way out of the main stream to the edge of the crowd, but kept a sharp eye on the fellow in his peripheral vision. Everything about him screamed trouble; his expression, his stance, the way he was locking his attention on everyone in his immediate vicinity. He was clearly looking for someone.

Reese had no reason whatsoever to believe the man had any interest in him, but it was his nature to be suspicious of any odd behaviors, and so he kept his guard up until he was well past the fellow. He glanced in the windows to his left, looking at the reflections of his fellow pedestrians, but saw no sign of the man, or Fusco, so he relaxed, just a little, and refocused on getting to the bar.

Just as he was passing by a dark, narrow alley on his left, the payphone directly opposite it began to ring. Reese jolted to a halt, blinking, startled. He couldn't help it, he looked at the phone, as if it was a personal summons.  
When he did, someone grabbed the back of his coat, and dragged him in to the shadows of the alley.  
He immediately spun, broke the hold, but his assailant was every bit as well-trained as he was, and in one swift counter-maneuver he ground Reeses' back against the wall, fist knotted in to the front of his coat, his other hand pulling the gun Reese had tucked into the small of his back to point at his head. He was every bit as tall as Reese, and they stood eye to eye.

Reese kept his expression as blank as possible, eyes narrowed, jaw clenched in anger. He recognized him as the tall man with the cell phone.

'Who are you? Why are you following me?' the fellow snarled, English accent, feral blue eyes locked with Reese, dark shoulder-length hair framing a bold featured face.

'I don't know what you're talking about,' Reese replied, sharply.

'Don't lie to me,' his captor spat, shifted his balance, kept Reese in place with the gun, pressed into his chest. He left go his grip on Reeses' coat to pull out his phone, tap something up.

'Who sent you?' the fellow demanded, turning the phone so Reese could see the picture displayed.  
It was a picture of Reese. Involuntarily, Reese felt his mouth fell open, his confusion nearly overwhelming. The man shoved his phone back into his pocket to free his hand , gave him another slam, snapped,  
'I'll ask you, again. The Machine? _Harold_? Who?''

On the street, the payphone continued to ring. Reese could see it was freaking him out as much as himself, so he carefully displayed his hands, clear respect for the skill of his captor. He'd obviously called the phone to distract Reese; the element of surprise. How he knew about Harold, or the Machine, he had no idea, but he meant to find out.

'No one sent me,' Reese assured him, quietly, 'so, why don't you hang up your call to that phone?' The man glared, barked,  
'That isn't me.'

They both froze, a shared confusion. Reese lowered his hands as his captor let go his brutal hold, stepped back. He obviously had no more idea what to do than Reese. It was also clear he understood what a ringing phone might mean.

The phone kept ringing, demanding attention.

'Answer it,' the fellow ordered.

Carefully, Reese took a step away, out of the shadows of the alley, onto the sunny sidewalk. Reached for the receiver, with a slight tremor in his hand, pulled it to his ear. He told himself it was because he needed a drink, but knew it was a lie. He was terrified by the possibility of what was on the other end of the line. His captor stepped out behind him, surveying the thinning crowd with a trained eye.

Static touched his ear, briefly, then the familiar electronic scramble voice of the Machine said, clearly,  
'Look left.'

Reese blinked, looked up, saw the camera directly above his head, noted the direction it pointed. It only took him a moment, to turn, lock eyes with his captor. In that split second, the fellow's eyes widened, realization. Pulling Reese's gun up from where he'd been holding it, close against his thigh, head swiveling, his eyes narrowed, clearly recognizing a threat. Before he'd leveled the weapon, the sound of a shot cracked the air, and a bright spray of red flew from his shoulder, blood scattering like rubies in the late afternoon sun . Reese had already dropped the receiver, lurched toward the falling man, caught him before he hit the cement. He was heavy, bore Reese to his knees, and he felt the deadly buzz of a second bullet sizzle past his ear. He grabbed his gun from the fallen man's now loose grip, doing a lightning fast damage assessment of the wound as he did; not good. Immediately he spotted the gunman; red-blond, five-eleven, one-ninety, plaid flannel shirt, ball cap, jeans. He racked off two quick rounds, forcing their assailant to duck into cover around a corner. The man on the ground was gasping in pain, and Reese dug his fingers into the back of his coat, ordered, flatly,

'Get up,' as he stood himself, dragging the other man to his feet. He snapped two more shots toward the cover of the attacker, to keep his head where it belonged, around the corner, not watching where they were going.  
He looked at the other fellow, knew he didn't have to explain anything; he was obviously as well-trained as Reese, and would understand what they needed to do without hesitation. People were screaming and running, now, which would provide excellent cover for their escape. Reese muttered a fierce curse, grabbed his companion by his shirtfront, and dragged him, stumbling, down the alley.


	2. Chapter 2

Hey to all my followers, and anyone who has just joined us! Thanks SO much for all the positive feedback! Please R&R this chapter; there will be at least one more, depends on how the characters play it out for me. You guys are great! Enjoy!

Chapter Two

Kneeling on the damp, dirty floor of the basement, Reese shook out one of the towels he'd swiped from an outdoor bistro on their erratic journey here. Pulled his knife, slashed it into manageable strips. His recently acquired partner held the flashlight in his useable hand, providing enough light for Reese to perform a field dressing on his shoulder wound. The only sound in the dark cellar was the occasional grunt of pain when Reese pulled the makeshift bandage tighter or more quickly than the fellow expected. They hadn't bothered to speak, yet; it had been considerably more important to loose their tail, find a safe place to reconnoiter.

' Looks clean, the bleeding is mostly stopped, ' Reese murmured, 'but, you'll need some more competent care, soon.' The fellow eyed him, sharply, shook his head, let his eyes fall shut, head leaned back against the cobwebbed brick wall, but his grip on the flashlight never wavered.

As Reese finished bandaging, he asked,  
'You got a name?' The man snorted, a mix of humor and rancor, opened his eyes, shifted so he was sitting up straighter, replied,  
'Do you?' Reese allowed himself a faint smile, wiping his hands clean on one of the remaining towels. He took the flashlight, turned it off, returned it to his coat pocket. While darker, there was still enough light filtering in the small, grimy windows to see clearly enough. Extending his mostly clean hand, he offered,  
'John Reese.' The other man glared, considering his options, before meeting Reeses' handshake.

'Jack Parker.'

'MI6?' Reese guessed, and Parker laughed, softly, corrected,  
'Former MI6.' He studied Reese a few more seconds, added,  
'I would say you are former CIA.' Reese just smiled, stood, offered Parker a hand. Parker accepted his aid, came a bit unsteadily to his feet, and leaned back against the wall. His expression made it plain he had no intention of trusting Reese.

As far as Reese was concerned, the feeling was mutual.

'So, Reese, why exactly are you here?' Parker growled, eyes glittering with malice.  
' If Harold, or the Machine, didn't send you, who did?'

'How do you know about Harold?' Reese shot back, brow furrowed, easing away from Parker so he had enough room to maneuver, if needed. Parker glared at him, arm of his injured left shoulder cradled tightly against his waist, tried to straighten his stance, but didn't quite succeed. He narrowed a piercing gaze on Reese, head tilted in contemplation.

' I'd been in New York maybe a month. Dodging European MI6 operatives, sent to 'eliminate' me.' Reese's brow folded, and Parker elaborated,

' I'd sent some corrupt field agents up the river. All of a sudden, my collaborating witnesses start dying, or disappearing. I figure, I'd stepped on some toes way above my pay grade.' He shrugged, continued,  
'Harold just showed up across the table from me, one morning. Made me an offer. Find some numbers, save some lives, including mine. I took it.' Reese's confusion was obvious, caused Parker to laugh, aloud, observe,  
'Sounds familiar?' His expression darkened, again, and he said, quietly,

'Harold gave me his word, when I quit…no one would come looking for me. Yet, here you are. ' Reese found himself shaking his head, denial and uncertainty.

'No one sent me,' he repeated his earlier assurance, but Parker jerked to his feet, toward Reese, pointing an accusing finger, bellowed,

'Then why did the Machine warn me, about you? Why, two minutes after she does, am I getting shot at?' Reese held his ground, but couldn't still the whirling confusion of his own thoughts. This man, had done…his job…before him? Why hadn't Harold ever mentioned that?

'I…I don't know,' Reese finally managed, and his honesty seemed to placate Parker slightly. He felt compelled to explain further, 'I came here, purely for personal reasons.'

To get away from the Machine, he wanted to add. To ignore it, to punish it; for allowing him to suffer all the pain of loss that he had spared others. He didn't say it, but Parker saw it, regardless.  
'You had to leave, too, didn't you? You lost someone.' Parker said, certainty, his assertion stabbing like a knife.

'You think the Machine sent you my picture?' Reese asked, changing the subject, trying to make some sense of what was happening.

'Hell, she probably sent you, ' Parker admitted, indicating his bandages as he sagged back against the wall, breathing heavily, eyes closed. His outburst had cost him, but he gave a chuckle, followed by a sharp grimace of pain.

'Harold abandoned me, but she hasn't. Even though I left, she still looks out for me. ' He met Reese's horrified expression, gave a slight nod of certainty,

'She will you, too.' His features hardened, and he amended,  
'If she wants to.'


	3. Chapter 3

OK, all you wonderful followers have inspired me; another chapter for you to enjoy! As always, i LOVE it when you R&R..all you with unanswered questions, have faith; the answers are coming, I promise!

Chapter Three

Fusco glared at his ringing phone, which read, 'Blocked Number', but he knew exactly who it was. His initial response was to shove it back in his pocket, keep driving. He heard it quit, which meant Wonder Boy had been kicked to voicemail.

A moment later, it began ringing, again.

'Ah, crap,' he spat, and pulled his rental car over, parked under a streetlight, realizing that Reese would continue to call until Fusco answered.

'Whatever it is, screw you,' Fusco barked into the phone, 'I am on my way to the airport. You made your point. ' He threw a glance at his watch; one AM. Hour and a half until his flight.

'Lionel, I'm sorry,' Reese said, immediately catching Fusco's attention. He wasn't in the habit of being polite, at least, not to Fusco. Fusco sighed, waited to hear what Reese wanted.

'I've run into a situation, and could really use a hand.'

Fusco snorted, rolled his eyes, snarked,

'How come it is, no matter where you go, you manage to find trouble?' He pictured Reese's annoyed face, a tinge of amusement on his own. He made Reese wait a few seconds, while he seriously considered whether or not he would help.

' I help you, you gonna come home?' he asked, irritably. Reese was quiet so long Fusco thought maybe he'd hung up, but finally he said, in a tight voice,

'No promises.' Fusco sighed, again, and, questioning his sanity, said,

'Whattaya need?'

'A ride.'

'Where?' Fusco asked, and tapped the address Reese gave into his cars' GPS. He squinted at it, made a face, said, confused,

'A Vet Clinic? What, you got a dog?'

'Just get here, as fast as you can. Back door,' Reese retorted, frustration clear in his voice.

'Yeah, yeah, on my way,' Fusco muttered, hanging up. Looked at himself in the rearview mirror, said, to his reflection,  
'You must be some kind of idiot,' then pulled a u turn, headed back the direction his GPS directed.

Fusco rolled up to the dark building, noticing all the security cameras had been disabled. He shook his head, sighed. Should have known. Anytime Reese was involved, laws were being broken. He killed his headlights, coasted around back, put the car in park. In less than ten seconds, the back door swung open, and Reese ducked out, another man close behind. The other man was obviously injured in some way; his movement was jerky, impaired. Fusco scowled, looked the fellow over closely as they quickly got into the back. The unknown man glared back at Fusco, his features pale and tinged with pain.

'Didn't know I was picking up Cinderella,' Fusco smarted off, clearly making fun of the man's long hair. The man responded by flipping Fusco off. Reese pushed Parkers' hand down, said sharply,

'Fusco's a friend. Be nice.' Parker just shot Reese a scowl.

'What's the deal with the Vet Clinic?' Fusco demanded, pulling back around front, putting the headlights on so he could merge onto the street.

' Jack Parker,' Reese replied, indicating him, ' Encountered some lead poisoning, this afternoon.'

'Do you get shot at everywhere you go?' Fusco wondered, shaking his head. Reese shrugged, corrected,

'Actually, they were shooting at Parker. I just happened to be there. We needed some more advanced medical supplies, and this was the best place to get them.'

'Yeah, all right, so, now what?'

'Parker needs to get out of town…'

'No, absolutely not,' Parker broke in,

' They found me once, they'll find me, again.' Reese and Fusco just looked at him, Fusco in the rearview, but both kept silent. Parker shared angry looks with both men, insisted,

'I have to bury these guys, before they bury me.' Reese scowled, was preparing to insist otherwise, but Parker cut him off.

'Look. I have the evidence, at my place. I kept everything, just in case.'

'What the Hell is he talkin' about?' Fusco asked, only to be ignored.

'They'll be watching it,' Reese reminded, and Parker nodded, angrily,

'Of course they will.' He gave a deep sigh, closer to a groan, eyes shut tight, head bowed.

'I'm tired of running,' he admitted, then looked to Reese.

'Don't you understand? That's why I had to leave. The price on my head was endangering what he was doing. These guys, if they'd connected me, to Harold, to his work….they would destroy everything, to get me.' He took another deep breath, insisted,

'Right now, it's just me they want. They get a line on you,' he pointed at Reese,' they see you helped me…they'll go through you and take it right back to Harold.'

'Why didn't you let Harold help you?' Reese wondered, knowing full well what wonders the man was capable of.

Parker shook his head, admitted,

'I didn't have all the evidence, yet. I do, now. I can bring the men responsible down. I just need to live long enough to get it to the right people.'

Reese studied the face of the man across from him, weighing everything he'd just said.

'You told me Harold abandoned you,' Reese reminded, his face void of expression, and Parker's pleading expression became a fierce glare.

'He did. When I wouldn't tell him why I wanted out, he gave me a couple extra identities, some credit cards, and sent me on my way. Never a hint of regret. Those damn numbers…that's all he ever cared for.'

Reese had gone very quiet, which Fusco had come to learn was a dangerous sign.

'But, you want me to believe you cared enough about saving those same strangers, that you left their fates to chance, to save yourself? ' Reese growled, incredibly angry, and ready to dump Parker on the nearest curb. As angry as he was over the fate of Carter, he blamed the Machine, never Harold. It was not a good plan to demean Harold, not to Reese.

Parker glowered at Reese as if he were a moron, hissed,

'He recruited me. I had no doubt he would recruit someone else. Probably had his next two or three candidates waiting in the wings, just in case.' He locked his icy blue eyes with Reese's, and held them, nodding slowly as he watched the truth of his words sink in.

'Other men, like me. Adrift, without a purpose. Desperate for some hope, something to redeem their miserable existences, trying to wipe out all our past mistakes.' Reese looked at Fusco, met eyes in the rearview, said,

'Pull over.' Fusco gave him a 'what?' look, but complied. Reese climbed out of the car, walked around to Parkers' side, opened the door.

'Get out,' Reese ordered. It took barely a second for Parker to comply. His angry gaze bored into Reese's, but Reese never blinked, never flinched. After a few moments, Reese came around, got into the front passenger seat, closed the door, said to Fusco,

'Drive.'

'You kiddin' me?' Reese refused to look at Fusco, he merely repeated, sharply,

_'Drive_.'

Fusco grumbled, not happy at all, muttering under his breath, but put the car in drive, pulled away, left Parker standing alone on the sidewalk. He glanced over at Reese, but Reese never looked back, either over his shoulder, or in the mirror.

Parker watched until the taillights of the car disappeared, then closed his eyes in defeat. After a long sigh, he limped his way over to the sidewalk, sat down on the curb, and looked up at the traffic camera, just overhead.


	4. Chapter 4

OK, you guys inspired me to get this chapter out quickly; the story is far from over! Your R&R keeps me going;enjoy!

Chapter Four

Fusco managed to keep quiet about three minutes.

'So, now what?' he demanded, but Reese ignored him, said flatly,

'Thanks for the help. You can drop me at the next corner. I can walk from there.' Fusco snorted angrily, stormed,

'Oh, right. 'Thanks, Fusco,' that's it? Then, you're gone? You just walk away, from me, from that guy, who needs your help? I don't think so.'

Fusco jerked the car a hard right, into a parking lot, straight toward the building at the end, and pulled up right against the wall on the passenger side. He was so close he broke the mirror, but it also prevented Reese from getting out. He slammed the car in park, turned it off, and stuffed the keys in his left hand pocket. Reese just turned a steely gaze his way, asked,

'You think I can't get out of here?'  
'

'Hell, of course you can,' Fusco retorted, 'But, first, you are gonna hear what I have to say.' Reese just stared, straight ahead, as immoveable as a statue.

'Let me tell you, I'm tired of your Diva act, like you're the only one who got hurt when Carter died. Like you're the only one who feels betrayed.'

Reese blinked, quickly, several times. If he hoped Fusco didn't notice, he was wrong.

'Carter was your friend, but she was also an asset. A tool, in your crummy Secret Agent toolbox. She was my partner. She trusted me, when no one else did. Not you, not Harold, nobody. So you can cram your attitude.'

Fusco gripped the steering wheel, hard, shook his head, angrily,

'You think Carter would want this ' he indicated Reese's current status with a jab of his finger,' to be her legacy? Abandoning that guy, tossing him to the sharks….he's dead meat, you know it.'

Reese lowered his head, chin to chest, eyes closed tight in shame. Fusco sighed, tossed hands in the air, a gesture of complete futility. He fished the keys out, started the car, pulled away from the building far enough to allow Reese to get out.

' I guess you can live with one more death on your hands. I can't. I'm done with that. Get out. I'm gonna go back, hope I can find Parker.' Fusco shrugged, all his anger spent.

'Not sure what I can do, but it's a Hell of a lot better than letting him die, alone.' Reese picked his chin off his chest, opened the car door, and stepped out, shut the door behind him. Fusco could hardly believe his eyes, but gritted his teeth and began to pull away.

Reese spun, slammed both hands onto the hood, forcing Fusco to spike his brakes. Reese beat his hands against the unyielding hood, half a dozen times, pure, uncontrolled rage…or was it grief? Fusco just stared, without compassion, waited, as Reese lowered his forehead to rest on the cars' hood, hands gone to fists against the unyielding metal of the car. After a few moments, Reese straightened, squared his shoulders, and got back into the car. He sat, quietly, eyes closed, breathing hard, and Fusco just left him be.

'I don't know what to do,' Reese sighed, an anguished breath, and Fusco barked a short laugh,

'Well, that's a first. You can start by paying for all the damage to this rental car.' Despite himself, Reese managed a chuckle, and looked at Fusco.

'Thank you, Lionel,' he said, and, this time, he really meant it. Fusco smiled, put the car in drive, and headed back the way they'd come.


	5. Chapter 5

Apologies to all for taking so long to post a chapter! Family emergency took up all my time the last 10 days or so. This chapter is a bit short, but I wanted you guys to have a tidbit to keep you happy until I could get the rest of the story put together.

Enjoy! As always, I live for the R&R...

Chapter Five

Fusco rolled up to the curb, went put the car in park, both he and Reese peering off through the shadows beyond the halo of the streetlights. No sign of Parker, there, or on the sidewalk. Before they could get out of the car, the GPS suddenly said,

'500 feet, turn left.'

'What the…did you reset that?' Fusco asked, startled, and Reese slowly shook his head, afraid of the idea that had just come to him.

Parker had said,  
'She looks out for me.' The Machine. Was it telling them where to find Parker, now?

Without attempting to explain, Reese murmured,

'Just go.' Fusco shook his head, grumbling about how he was never gonna get used to this weird crap, and continued to drive, taking the directed turn.

'400 yards, arrive at destination, corner Nash and Stone,' the GPS intoned, so Fusco obediently pulled over where the device indicated, and parked under the streetlight.

'Arrived at destination.'

Reese got out of the car, and Fusco followed suit.

' It's only been, what, ten minutes, since we left him? How far could he get?' Fusco asked. Hands on hips, brow furrowed, Reese said, scanning the brushy area off the sidewalk,

'Under normal circumstances, I would say he could make half a mile, maybe more, on foot, in that time. He's wounded, lost a lot of blood, so that cuts his travel. He'd be headed north, northeast, back into town. I found him one the east side, so it's most likely that's his home base.'

'A very accurate, forensic evaluation, Reese,' Parker's voice remarked, pure sarcasm, and he edged into the light, surprising both men. He was listing heavily to his left, hand tucked into his jacket pocket to take the weight off his injured shoulder. His sharp gaze burned in Reese's, and he admitted,

'I thought I might make it, walking back, but, it's a couple miles. I honestly don't think I have it in me. Not tonight.'

He reeled, slightly, managed to make it to the light post to catch his balance before he fell.

'I figured I'd go as far as I could.'

He laughed, softly, said,

'Then, I got word, you were coming back, so, I waited.' Fusco stared at him like he was crazy, but didn't bother asking why he would say such a thing. Reese met his eyes, and Parker said, fiercely,

'I told you. She looks out for me.'

'Get in the car. They'll be out looking for you,' Reese ordered, opening the door to the back seat, and ignoring the questions in Fusco's glare. Parker stepped directly up to Reese, and, being the same height, looked him straight in the eyes.

'Wouldn't want to put you out,' he sneered, eliciting an immediate snarl from Reese. After a few seconds, the snarl turned from rage to a thoughtful frown. He pointedly surveyed Parker, whose confusion was obvious.

'You have the evidence,' Reese mused, aloud. Parker jerked a sharp nod, reminded,

'At my place.' His eyes narrowed, and he clarified, a finger in Reese's face,

'I'm the only one who can recover it.' He was watching Reese closely, suddenly realizing he was concocting some type of plan. A tiny smile tugged one corner of Reese's lips, and he said,

'And, of course, they will be watching it. Watching…for you.'

A slow smile spread to Parkers' face as he realized what Reese was suggesting. Fusco just stood, staring, absolutely lost. Parker nodded, he shifted his weight to balance as evenly on both feet as possible.

'Five guys, maybe six,' he said. Reese nodded, agreement,

'We'll need an hour, maybe two, for recon, supplies.'

Parker glanced at his watch, added,

'That should bring us close to dawn. Perfect.'

'What are you two talkin' about?' Fusco finally groused, hating how he always seemed to be the last one to find out anything.

'A hunting trip, Fusco,' Reese smiled, but there was no humor in it. Parker's expression mirrored his, a fierce glare fueled by vengeance.

'Perfect,' Fusco snorted, and climbed behind the wheel.


	6. Chapter 6

Hey to all...the adventure continues! Please R&R, I love it! Enjoy!

Chapter Six

Fusco fussed with his ill-fitting bullet proof vest, grumbling because it was too small, but happy to have one. He hadn't noticed one for either Parker or Reese. They were preoccupied scrutinizing street maps, marking the locations of the half dozen guys staking out Parker's apartment, and readying a a small arsenal of guns at the same time. Fusco didn't even bother wondering where they'd managed to scrounge so much stuff so quickly. Another Secret Agent skill, he imagined. The basement they were holed up in was damp, dirty, but apparently safe enough.

'As soon as you're clear, put in that call to the FBI,' Reese was saying, and Parker slanted him a distrustful glare. Reese understood, advised,

'Look, I don't know where else to go. If high ups are compromised at MI6, I sure wouldn't trust trying to go home. The FBI has come through for us…'

Reese stammered, blinked, clearing his expression before amending,

' I mean, me…more than once.' Parker growled some unintelligible, but clearly derogatory, comment, and Reese glared, but ignored it. He turned away, came to stand by Fusco.

Fusco tossed a furtive glance toward Parker, before he leaned close to Reese, said quietly,

'Why don't you put in a call to Glasses?' Reese sent him a scorching scowl, and Fusco reasoned, with a shrug,

'Just be nice, y'know, I mean, to have an Ace in the hole.' Reese tucked a 9MM Sig into the small of his back, snapped, in an undertone,

'No. He's in New York City. Not much he can do, here.'

Fusco made a face, shot back,

'You kiddin' me? I sure wouldn't think you'd put any limits on what that guy can do.'

Reese's glare became so fierce, Fusco backed away a few steps, hand raised in surrender. He snarked, disgusted,

'Whatever. You're the boss.'

He tossed a look toward Parker, who had tilted an ear their direction, a scowl on his face, clearly trying to hear what they were saying. Reese growled,

'I am the Boss, Fusco. Don't forget it.'

Reese moved toward Parker, who was pulling his hair back into a pony tail before snugging on a baseball cap. Reese noted his movement was significantly less restricted, asked,

'Pain meds kicking in?'

Parker nodded, flexed his shoulder carefully, took a quick peek down his collar to be sure he hadn't started bleeding again.

'Right, then,' Parker said, shrugging out of his jacket to hand it over to Reese, who pulled it on, flicked the collar up, and yanked a stocking cap down over his head.'

' The crew looking for me will all be either ex- MI6 or other high-end operatives. That means from the time you take the first guy down, until they notice he's missing, we've got fifteen minutes, max, ' Parker informed them.

'I'll need at least five of those, inside, to recover the data.'

Reese squared his shoulders, tucked another gun into a shoulder holster, face completely clear of emotion, said evenly,

'I'll do my best to get any strays to follow me. All goes well, we meet at the rendezvous spot at zero-six-thirty. Ready, Fusco?'

Fusco came over, arranging his coat, and not meeting Reese's eyes, as if he was hiding something, but nodding to show he was clear on his part of the plan. Reese handed him the high powered rifle, held on to it just a second, forcing Fusco to look at him.

'You sure you got this?'

"Yeah, yeah,' Fusco huffed, taking the gun,' I got another choice?' Reese shook his head, slowly, a decidedly menacing smile on his face.

Parker added,

'If you shoot, they will zero in on you in less than two minutes. So don't do it unless you have to. If you do, make it count.'

Fusco scowled back, muttered,

' I should'a gone to the airport.'

Reese reached over, picked up what looked like two small, black racquetballs, put one in his pocket, and tossed one to Parker, who caught it, easily, tucked it into his pocket. They looked at one another, a few seconds, Parker's steel blue eyes to Reese's ocean blue, one professional to another. Both knew they were likely to get killed, but this was what they did.

Fusco settled down against the edge of the rooftop, occupying the spot just forcibly vacated by the MI6 sniper. That guy was taking an enforced snooze about ten feet away, trussed up in duct tape. Fusco put his night binocs on a couple of the footmen, lingering a block out from Parkers' residence in either direction.

In less than a minute, he spotted a tall man, moving furtively, keeping to the shadows, headed into the building. The radio at his side hissed,

'Heads up, everyone. Parkers' in the building.'

'Let him go. Pick him up on the way out, see where he's headed,' another voice ordered, and the radio went silent. Fusco traded the binocs for his sniper scope, noting that it was less than two minutes before the tall man exited the building.

'He's out,' the radio informed, 'everyone, move in.'

Fusco watched as his marks emerge from the shadows to follow what they presumed to be Parker, but was really Reese.

Reese exited the building, moved carefully, to be certain he kept his followers distracted without appearing to be obvious about it. There was never any guarantee they wouldn't just shoot him when they figured it was a good time.

'Fusco,' he whispered into his earpiece,' what's it look like up there?'

'Like a parade,' Fusco replied, humor in his tone, 'And, you're the Grand Master.'

Reese allowed himself a tight smile. So far, so good. He lowered his head, gave a furtive glance over his shoulder, checked his watch, and kept moving.

From his perch, Fusco saw Parker take advantage of the missing surveillance to slip into the building. Fusco checked the time, and realized just how long five minutes actually was.

Parker finally appeared in the doorway, hesitated to be sure the coast was clear, then edged into the shadows, and vanished. Fusco chuckled, amused at how easily it had all gone.

'Reese, hey, Parker's out,' he said, into the earpiece, confused when there was no reply.

'Hey, you hear me?'

Then someone ground the sole of their shoe between his shoulder blades, hard, and smashed his face into the rooftop.


	7. Chapter 7

Sorry for the delay, all. Here you go! One more chapter to follow...please R&R...enjoy!

Chapter Seven

The black clad commando dragged Reese into the circle of men by the scruff of his coat, kicked the back of his legs, forcing Reese to drop to his knees on the concrete. Reese winced, knew his knees would be bleeding, but never made a sound, glaring up at his captors. The apparent leader, a dark-haired man with greying temples, reached over, jerked the stocking cap off his head, sneered,

'Well, well, Brandon was right! Parker does have a double.'

The other three men laughed, cruelly, but kept their distance. Around them, the day was dawning, sky lightening. It was already past the rendezvous time; when Reese didn't show, Parker would move out, alone.

The leader poked at Reese with the barrel of his rifle, said,

'Do you realize you're assisting an international fugitive from justice?'

Reese smiled, slowly, wiped blood from the corner of his mouth where his captor had bashed him with the butt of a gun, observed dryly,

'Funny. He said something similar about you.'

The group laughed, again, and the spokesman handed his gun off to one of the minions. He nodded to someone behind Reese, and another fellow wrestled Fusco up beside Reese, threw him to his hands and knees alongside. Fusco came to his knees, looked at Reese, the side of his face scraped and bleeding.

'I don't remember this part of the plan,' he said, flatly, and Reese barely managed to avoid rolling his eyes.

'So, where is he? Parker?' the leader asked, pulling a handgun from beneath his jacket, screwing on a silencer.

'I assumed you were watching him,' Reese replied, jaw tight, eyes narrowed, 'so, you tell me.'

The leader leveled his gun at Fusco, a fierce grin on his face.

'Let's see if you can help me, here, mate,' he threatened.

Fusco flinched back as the gun was aimed at his head, but never made another sound as he waited for the shot.  
Instead, someone hailed them from behind the leader,

'Got 'im, Flynn,' and shoved Parker toward them. Parker jerked to a stop, a few feet away, favoring his left, teeth bared angrily at the man called Flynn. He'd clearly been roughed up, too, his ball cap missing, hair pulled out of it's band, a fresh gash over one eye.

Flynn broke a huge smile, turned away from Fusco and Reese to favor Parker with his full attention.

'Jack! Good to see you survived the shot Avery took at you. I would really hate to loose track of all that information you have so helpfully collected over the years. Or, did you hand it off to these guys?' he queried, gesturing behind him toward Reese and Fusco.

Parker barked a laugh,

'These guys? How do I know they don't work for you?'

Parker leveled a harsh glare at Reese, right hand moving from his pocket to tuck itself tight against the left side of his chest, beneath his arm. Reese saw the move, gave a slight nod of assent; he knew what Parker was up to.

'Then, just hand it over, Jack, and you can walk away.'

Parker laughed, shook his head, eyes closed, then looked back at Flynn with a sneer,

'Forget it. I know the information is useless without me to verify it. You're going to shoot me, anyways, Flynn. Just get it over with.'

'All right,' Flynn snapped, pulled his gun up, and did, startling Reese and Fusco.

Parker toppled back onto the sidewalk, rolled onto his left shoulder. Flynn leveled his gun for a second shot, this one to the head, but the man who'd brought him in knelt, checked his out flung left wrist for a pulse, then shook his head.

'Save the bullet. He's gone.'

Flynn knelt alongside Parker's body, began rummaging in his pockets, while Fusco stared, wide-eyed, at Reese, knowing they were next.

Flynn pulled the flash drive out of Parker's pocket, gestured for a reader to verify the contents. The sun had broken above the horizon, and the glow of morning cast a crimson red haze over the circle of men. The red head Reese recognized as the man who'd shot at them, labeled 'Avery' by Flynn, stepped up, handed Flynn the reader, eyeballing the two captive men with a sneer. They turned their backs on Parker's body, and everyone's attention was focused on what Flynn was doing. As Flynn pulled up the data, a wicked smile curved his face.

'Well, gentlemen, looks like our work is nearly done for the day. All that's left is to get rid of this lot.'

He gestured toward Parker, then Reese and Fusco. Reese narrowed a sharp gaze on them, tensed and ready to move as soon as he saw what direction he needed to go. Fusco just watched Reese, figuring he knew what he was doing, and ready to follow his lead.

Avery swung his attention toward Reese and Fusco, swaggered over to kneel alongside Parker's body, picked his limp right hand from the ground, and fitted it around the grip of his .45. His intent was obvious; shoot them and blame it an Parker. Pointing the gun their direction, laughed, said,

'Ah, that'll be easy.'

'Not so much,' Parker's voice snapped, and he sat up, jerked control of the gun away, pressed the muzzle against Avery's knee, and pulled the trigger. Avery went down with a piercing scream, and a look of astonishment on his face. Reese rolled left, took out the guy closest to him at the knees, relieving him of his weapon, and cracking him in the jaw with it. Fusco dove facedown onto the sidewalk, dodging several shots, and Parker took the shooter out with a round to the foot.

Reese was coming to one knee, a defensive stance, Parker shoring up his back, as the remaining commandos overcame their surprise and reformed an angry half circle. Each man chose their targets carefully, but before any more shots could be fired, a bullhorn blared,

'FBI! Drop your weapons!'

The commandos looked around, wildly, but quickly realized they were surrounded, and laid down their arms. Reese and Parker held their weapons out to side of their body, laid them carefully at their feet as the uniformed officers took control of the scene. Fusco rolled to his back, hands up, and waited for permission to stand.

The lead agent walked in, right up to Reese, said,

' Marshall Jennings?'

Reese nodded, sharply, absolutely confused as to why the fellow would know his stolen identity, but flashed the badge and kept calm. Waited for the agent to speak first, which would give him a direction to go with his own cover story.

'Special Agent Ryan. We got a tip you might need an assist,' the FBI agent said.

'This is Detective Fusco, NYPD,' Reese informed, as Fusco came to his feet, brushing his clothes clean.

'A little out of your jurisdiction, aren't you, Detective?' Ryan observed, but Reese broke in, shortly,

'Assisting me, joint investigation.'

He knew the less he said, the better. Ryan shrugged, satisfied, turned his attention to the rest of the scene. There was no sympathy on his face for the two downed commandoes, whose wounds were being given field dressings so they could be moved. A broad smile ran across his face as he spotted Flynn, who was being not so nicely handcuffed by a burly Agent.

'Well, Flynn. I didn't think you were allowed on American soil, anymore.'

Flynn spat, hissed a curse, added,

'Bite me.'

Ryan gave a very unpleasant smile, turned to extend a hand to Parker.

'Jack Parker?' he asked, and Parker nodded, as confused as Reese, but shook the man's hand, wincing.

Ryan said, 'I understand you may have useful information regarding this group of…. miscreants.'

Parker nodded, pointed, 'On the flash drive.'

A second Agent approached, carrying the reader with the flash drive, and showed it to Ryan, who raised his eyebrows at what he saw. He handed it back to the other Agent, turned a scathing sneer at Flynn, who jerked sharply against the hold of his cuffs, but was held fast.

'Gotcha, Flynn,' Ryan purred, with a satisfied nod, then was forced to turn his attention to Parker as he swayed unsteadily.

'You hit?' he asked, quickly, and Parker opened his shirt to reveal a vest. It had certainly stopped the bullet he'd taken minutes earlier, but added, as he unbuckled it to expose a fresh red stain,

'I took a round, yesterday. That asshole just reopened it. Sure could use an assist.'

Ryan nodded, gestured urgently for aid as Parker eased onto a nearby bench. As Ryan turned to Reese, thanking him for his help, Fusco sidled casually over to Parker, said, quietly,

'Hey. How'd you stop your pulse?'

Parker managed a sly grin, pulled the black ball he'd taken earlier from Reese out from his armpit, a tossed it to Fusco.

'Tuck it in, tight. Interrupts the pulse, at least for a minute or two. Long enough.'

Fusco stared at the ball, dumbfounded, then snorted an astonished,

'Unbelievable. You guys got all the good tricks.'

Parker chuckled, and Fusco moved aside to allow the Medics access.

Reese eyeballed the scene, not missing a detail, with a satisfied smile. Then he realized he needed to make a phone call, and stepped out of hearing of the Agents who were securing the area. Fusco stepped in close beside him, waiting for a clue as to what they were going to do next.

Reese pulled his phone, his fingers hesitating a few seconds before dialing the familiar number. It rang twice, like always, and Finch's welcome voice answered, surprised, questioning,

' Mr. Reese?'

Reese felt a smile touch his face, and realized just how much he missed his friend.

'Thanks for the reinforcements, Finch,' he said, but could feel the confusion in Finch's voice when he answered,

'Excuse me?'

Reese's brow furrowed, and he said,

'You sent the FBI in. You were the anonymous tipster.'

There was an extended pause, and Reese could imagine Finch's expression as he replied,

'As much as I would like to take credit for whatever aid you received, I honestly had no idea where you were until you called me a moment ago.'

Reese turned a suspicious eye toward Fusco, growled,

'Lionel? You didn't call Finch?' Fusco shrugged, said, confounded,

'I thought you did.'

On the other end of the line, Finch, trying to comprehend what was happening, said,

'I'm sorry, I don't understand. Exactly what is going on?'

Reese clicked the connection off, looked to Parker with a furrowed brow. Parker grimaced sharply as the EMT applied fresh bandages to his wound, but still met his eye. Despite the presence of the EMT, he had obviously been watching, and deduced what had just happened. He smiled, winked, and pointed to the camera overlooking them where they stood on the sidewalk. Reese looked up, acknowledged the camera, and Fusco saw his face pale as his phone rang. Reese gripped the phone so tightly he was afraid he might break it, attempting to deny a fearful truth. Fusco waited about eight rings before he verbally nudged,

'Aren't you gonna answer that?' Reese, face fiercely sad, pulled the phone to his ear, snapped, through gritted teeth,

'Why did you send me to Parker?'

The static hissed at him, a silent reprimand, a few seconds, then the voice of the Machine implored,

'Come home.'

Reese looked up a camera, ignoring Fusco's baffled expression. He stared up, at it's flashing red eye, phone ground against his ear as if that would still the accusing hiss of static. Slowly, he felt his head shake, back and forth, no, no, no…and crushed the 'end call' button. Even as he shoved the phone into his pocket, he could still feel the plea of her words, _her _words,

'_Come home_,' echoing in his ears.

He spun away, ignoring Fusco, to face Parker, who stood, pulling his shirt together over his neatly bandaged shoulder, and made his way to Reese. Reese had no way to frame all the questions and confusion crashing around inside his brain. He had no idea what his face looked like, but apparently Parker understood.

Parker shook his head, resignation, and gave a small smile. After a second, he extended his hand for a shake, which Reese accepted, said,

'Thanks. Maybe I can repay you, someday.' Reese managed a faint smile, feeling dizzy and completely lost. Behind them, Agent Ryan called,

'Mr. Parker, are you ready?' Parker nodded, turned to leave. He'd taken a step away when Reese's voice, a strangled tone, said to his back,

'Why would you call it 'she'?'

Parker stopped, and, after a moment, laughed, a sad sound. He looked back over his shoulder, let the cold accusation of his stare hold a few seconds. To Reese's devastated expression, he said, quietly,

'Isn't it obvious? Only a woman forgives her children any sin.'

The words hit Reese like a blow. Parker turned away to go with Ryan toward the FBI vans.

Reese pulled his phone out, looked at it as if he was going to toss it as far as he could. Instead, he clenched his eyes tight, jaw working angrily, and he stuffed it back into his pocket. He heard a faint ring, looked after Parker, who hesitated on his path to the vans, pulled his phone. He looked at the screen, the to the camera, and a satisfied smile pulled his face. He sent Reese one final nod, and climbed into the van.

Reese watched him go, paralyzed with indecision, remorse, resentment, fear. Fusco shuffled his feet, waiting, for once, in silence. The golden glory of the early days' sun threw their shadows across the now still sidewalk, and the camera overhead watched, red eye blinking.


	8. Chapter 8

Hopefully by now you have seen Season 3, Episode 13, '4C'. If not, go watch that before you read the epilogue. It's important . Then come back and read this chapter.

Epilogue

Reese watched Finch, sitting alone at the table at the outdoor bistro, for a long while, struggling with his inner self. He kept trying to hold on to the resentment, the betrayal, he'd felt over the Machine letting Carter die. Try as he might, however, those feelings were slipping away, blurred by the realization that he could keep helping people, had still been helping people, even when he tried to leave the Machine behind.

'Only a woman forgives her children any sin,' Parker had said. She had certainly forgiven him, hadn't She? Why else would She so adamantly refuse to let him go? Maybe it was time for him to forgive, too.

Reese closed his eyes, breathed softly,

'Rest in peace, Joss. I hope you understand, I have to do this,' and walked across the plaza to slip into the chair across from Finch, allowing himself a smile at the amazed look on his friends' face.

The candid explanations Finch gave, Reese's gentle acceptance, clearly raised Finch's hopes. Then, Reese's halting refusal to join him at his treasured art exhibit, very nearly crushing the spark of hope Finch had fanned to life. All of that, all of what had happened the last few weeks, faded into insignificance, when Reese said, quietly,

' While I'm in Italy, I thought I'd get fitted for a new suit,'

and was amazed at the leap of relief, of freedom, the sense of belonging, that overwhelmed him. The look of shock, surprise, and barely repressed excitement that hit Finch's features as he spat out the name of some crazy expensive tailor was a joy to observe all it's own. After making it very clear he intended to return home with Finch, Reese smiled, feeling embarrassed, and content, admitted,

'I need to get back to work.'

Finch nodded, eagerly, and stood, leading Reese down the sidewalk toward the shop of the earlier mentioned tailor.

After traveling a few minutes in the companionable silence of friends, Finch said, almost hesitantly,

'Fusco informed me that you have met Jack Parker.'

Reese, eyebrows raised, was surprised that Finch had broached the subject so quickly after his return. He wasn't surprised that he knew; Fusco would have certainly been eager to spill the story. Finch snuck a glance at Reese, discomfort evident on his face. Reese decided that, since Finch had already brought it up, he'd get a few answers of his own.

'I didn't realize there had been…others…before me,' he said, tone slightly hard, accusing. Finch, however, didn't back off from the truth.

'Yes. It's true you aren't my first…assistant. Does that bother you?'

Reese thought about it a few seconds, admitted,

'Well, I kind of liked the idea that I was special,' thinking about how the Machine had directly worked with him, communicated with him, the past few weeks.

Finch stopped, spun to face Reese, expression earnest, insisted,

'You are special, John. Why else would the Machine be so adamant about facilitating your return?'

Reese studied Finch, wondered, sharply,

'What happened with Parker?'

Finch sighed, turned, began walking, his limp more pronounced, as it always became when he got aggravated.

'Let's just say I was not as successful helping him to evade his past as I was you.'

He tossed a look to Reese, added,

'I am grateful you were available to offer him aid when he required it.'

Reese pursed his lips, decided not to say the words that leapt to his mind,

The Machine led me to him to help him, because She wanted to.

When Reese kept silent, didn't raise any further questions, Finch took that as a cue to let the conversation change tacks.

'Ah, here we are,' he said, a smile beaming from his face, as he stepped through the door of the tailor, Reese at his side, and both men felt like things were finally back the way they should be.

Sitting across the plaza, at another bistro, Jack Parker sipped his drink, bourbon, straight, and watched the reunion of Reese and Finch. He'd cut his hair, short, dressed in the casual half-buttoned dress shirt and comfortable pants favored by the locals so he wouldn't stand out.

The woman sitting beside him, wearing a bright sapphire-blue dress, red hair swept up into a braid on top of her head, peered over the top of her sunglasses at the duo.

'He's a decent bloke, for ex-CIA,' Parker admitted to her, and she laughed, pushed her sunglasses tight, said,

'I should say so. Saved your ass.'

He made a face, but tempered it with a smile,

'Good thing you were there when his ass needed saved, then, yeah?'

The woman smacked his arm with the back of her hand, playfully, advised,

'Jealousy is not flattering, Jack. I was just doing my job.'

He grabbed her hand, kissed it, smiled broadly,

'That's my Angelica. Ever perceptive.'

She narrowed her eyes at him, smile tugging her face. *

'Watch it, pal,' she warned, teasingly, and they turned their attention back toward the table across the way. They both fell silent, watching.

When the two men left, together, Parker managed a bitter smile, and downed the rest of his drink in one swallow, growled, as he stood,

'Another round of numbers gets a reprieve.'

His underlying resentment colored his tone, and she could hear how much he wished it was still him working alongside Finch. He'd burned that bridge, and there was no returning, now.

Angelica pulled her sunglasses, laid them on the table, so she could see his eyes clearly.

'Are you headed home?' she asked, expression plaintive.

He smiled, gently, sighed,

' I've got some things that need doing. Been away, too long. Sure wish you'd come with me.'

'Not yet. I'm pretty sure they'll be looking for me, there. They got too close in New York, and I can't risk coming up for air, not yet.'

Parker heaved an exasperated sigh, studied his empty glass, said,

'Just give it up, Angel. I'll help you. You can't believe how good it feels.'

She just smiled, replied,

'One of these days, Jack. When I'm ready.'

He studied her face, warned,

''Just don't wait until it's too late, love. It's not worth dying for.'

He set the glass down, bent to kiss her cheek, pulled on his sunglasses, scanned the area, and headed off the opposite direction from the one Finch and Reese had taken.

Angelica watched him go, then pulled her phone, tapped it alive, read the screen;

'Force pair, complete; John Reese'

She smiled, dropped her phone into her purse, pulled on her sunglasses, and left the plaza, a swing to her step.

* Yes, all, there IS a story that introduces Angelica to Reese and Finch; 'Ghost in the Shadows'. I apologize that it may not yet be completed, as I decided to do a bit of a rewrite once we lost two of the main characters in seasons two and three. The story was originally set to occur between seasons one and two. I really hope you will go check it out, anyways, as these characters are going to collide again in a future story, and you should know who she is. I promise to get at it and finish it, now that this one is complete!


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